


La Dolce Vita

by MediumSizedEvil



Series: Two Sides of the Same Coin [2]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Finding Your Roots, Karen Deserves Better, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-06-29 15:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19833415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MediumSizedEvil/pseuds/MediumSizedEvil
Summary: Jake and Amy go on holiday to Italy and find out more about Jake's heritage.“We're almost there, the birthplace of the great Marcello Peralta.”(And accidentally solve an old murder case.)





	1. The Last Peralta

_**Paesi che non ho mai veduto e vissuto con te, adesso si li vivrò**_

Countries I have never seen or shared with you, I will experience them now

  


“I hope it was Florence,” Jake said, leaning out of the car window. “Florence Peralta, that sounds great.” 

“And what if it's a boy?” Amy asked.

“Eh, _Firenzo_ ,” he said with the dramatic flair he'd adopted since touching down at Fiumicino Airport. “Or maybe it was Naples. It was so hot,” he sighed.

“Well I'm not calling my kid Naples,” Amy decided. “It's a shithole.”

“It's a beautiful shithole,” Jake added nuancedly. “And anyway, _you_ wanted to see Pompeii, and Christ under a tablecloth.”

“ _Veiled Christ_ , and it was worth it. Are you sure we're going the right way?”

Jake checked the navigation. “Oh yes, we're almost there, the birthplace of the great Marcello Peralta. I can see why he left though. There's nothing here.”

“It's beautiful!”

“If you like goats.”

Amy sighed and leaned out of the window to enjoy the view. “Don't get your hopes up about meeting any relatives though. We found nothing on Google or Facebook.”

“I just want to see the place. Anything else is a bonus. Ah, that must be it.”

They had turned a corner and saw a small village lying against the hillside. It was dusty and quiet as they drove in, with only a few mangy dogs crossing the street, like high noon in a spaghetti western. They parked the rental car on the piazza and looked around. Three old men were sitting on a bench by the fountain, staring at them and talking amongst themselves.

“Well, let's try them,” Jake suggested. “I don't see anyone else here. This place is dead.”

They walked towards the old men and greeted them with a well-practiced ' _bon giorno_ ', although that was about as far as Jake's Italian studies had taken him. Amy managed a little better with a good foundation in Spanish, although the Italians seemed absolutely determined to misunderstand that language, as if she were speaking Chinese.

Jake pointed to himself. “Jake Peralta.” There was some interest, a murmur of agreement that sparked a flicker of hope. “Peralta,” he repeated and showed them his passport, which they grabbed from his hand and passed around, clearly fascinated. “Marcello Peralta?” he asked, awkwardly miming a grandfather who was also great.

“ _Padre di padre di padre_ ,” Amy clarified. There was another excited chorus of agreement, and repeated exclamations of 'Marcello!' One of the men held up Jake's passport and asked something that seemed to end in ' _Americano_ '.

“ _Si, Americano_ ,” he replied, pointing at himself. “Marcello, _Americano_ too.”

This appeared to be welcome news.

“ _Familia Marcello_?” he asked. Maybe one of them was a distant relative of his.

“ _Sì, sì_ ,” they repeated, and kept saying something that sounded like ' _ademachini_ '.

He looked at Amy. “I have no idea,” she said. “Maybe it's something in the local dialect. And they talk so fast.”

Then one of them mentioned ' _deeno_ ' and they all repeated that in agreement.

Amy shrugged. “ _Deeno?_ _Dino?_ I don't know, maybe they want us to pay?”

“Perhaps my ancesters were dinosaurs?” Jake guessed.

Before Amy could grab her wallet the men got up from their bench and gently started pushing them towards the church across the square.

“Ah, maybe they're all over there,” Jake said, pointing to the churchyard. But they passed the ancient gravestones without stopping and turned into a shady little side street where all three men started knocking on the same dark wooden door. An old lady opened up. She looked just like an evil witch from a fairy tale, complete with mole, and Jake was afraid to seek a resemblance. The old lady listened attentively to the waterfall of words directed at her and then shouted ' _deeno!_ ' inside.

A young man appeared in the doorway, and he was treated to the same word avalanche. Then he turned to Jake and held out his hand. “Hi, I am Dino, nice to meet you,” he said in strongly accented English. “So you are looking for Marcello Peralta?”

“Well, I know where he's buried,” Jake replied. “I'm Jake Peralta, and Marcello was my great grandfather. But he was born here, and I was wondering if there were any other relatives still around.”

Dino nodded. “Yes, his niece still lives here. She is called Ada Mancini, but her girl name was Peralta.”

“Of course,” Amy said, slapping her forehead.

“So shall we go for to visit her?” Dino suggested. “You will need a translator.”

They gratefully accepted, and Dino led the way. They were followed by the three wise men, the old witch and various other old people who had come out of the woodwork to see what was going on. The excitement was palpable. They had left the small village behind and were now climbing up the hillside on a steep dirt track. The surprisingly sprightly seniors did a great job keeping up with them while Jake was almost out of breath already.

“I am so glad you have come,” Dino said pleasantly, also unperturbed by the exertion. “This is the most exciting thing that happen in the village since old Lorenzo fell off his ladder six years ago. So where in the U.S.A. are you from?”

“New York,” Jake managed.

“Ah, nice. The Big Apple. And what do you do?”

Thankfully they'd reached a slightly more horizontal part of the road. “We're both cops,” Jake wheezed, and then took a deep breath.

“Ah, the NYPD,” Dino said, full of admiration. “Like on CSI.”

“Yeah, sort of. It's not really like on tv, you know.”

Dino looked disappointed. “You mean you never take off your sunglasses and say something cool?”

“Oh, that part is real. I do that all the time. See?” He took off his sunglasses. “ _Gelato._ ”

“Ah, that was great. Thank you.”

“So what do you do around here?” Amy asked curiously.

Dino started laughing. “Nothing. I do not live here. I just visit my grandmother. I work in IT in Munich. Ah, we are here,” he said, stopping at a desolate farmhouse and knocking on the door. A tiny weathered old lady answered, and she looked very alarmed by the small army of villagers plus two strangers on her doorstep. But Dino quickly filled her in and then she was suddenly full of excitement. She motioned for Jake and Amy to come in, and Dino quickly closed the door behind them to shut out all the nosy villagers including his own grandmother. She pulled Jake in a tight hug and murmured all sorts of incomprehensible things. Then she pulled back and motioned for them to sit down at the kitchen table.

“You must eat,” Dino declared. She gave them both a big plateful of greyish stew that looked a bit shady but was actually delicious, while she held a long monologue featuring the name Marcello that they didn't understand another word of. However, Dino listened attentively and when she paused to breathe he grabbed his chance and filled them in. “Well, her uncle Marcello was a bit of a bad boy. He seduced Eugenia, the butcher's wife – that's my great great aunt by the way – and the butcher found out. And then he disappeared and was never seen or heard of again. Everyone thought that the butcher had killed him. He had a bit of a temper.”

“But he went to America!” Jake exclaimed.

“ _America!_ ” Ada agreed, clasping her hands.

“Well, what a fun story,” Jake said. “I can't wait to tell dad.”

Ada suddenly became emotional and dabbed her eyes with the end of the tea towel hanging from her apron, while holding a plaintive speech.

“She always thought she was the last Peralta,” Dino translated. “She can die happy now.”

“That's very sweet and also a bit disturbing. I hope it can wait?”

Ada continued talking while pointing at the cobwebbed ceiling.

“Jesus has guided your heart,” Dino said stoically.

“Ehhh...”

Then she started talking animatedly while grasping both Jake and Amy's hands. Although they got the gist of it Dino still attempted an awkward translation. “You must have lots of babies.”

Jake looked at Amy and smiled. Then he turned back to Ada. “Well, alright then, just because you said so, strange old lady I've never met before.”

**Coda**

Jake raised his glass. “To Eugenia and Marcello, _che cosa è amor!_ You know you're always welcome in New York.”

Dino smiled. “Thanks, _cin cin_. And you should come to the Oktoberfest in Munich!”

**Coda di coda**

“She's a little Ada, isn't she?”

**Coda di coda di coda**

“Well, she was happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Con Te Partirò](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wdx5nGphnAI)


	2. Holier Than Thou

Ada pressed them to eat some baked goods next, and they happily obliged.

“She said she will pray for you,” Dino translated.

“Eh, can't hurt I spose,” Jake said with a mouth full of _bombolone_. “Oh, that reminds me, do you think she would like a signed picture of the Pope?”

“Of course!” Dino replied. “But how will you arrange that?”

“Oh, I already have one.”

“You are joking, right?”

“No, I'm not. I gave first aid to an old lady who fainted in the Vatican.” Jake shrugged. “I only did it because I was bored. Amy was inside looking at some dumb ceiling. Also, you do not want to be a policeman in the Vatican, those pants are ridiculous. But they gave me the picture and it felt rude to say no.”

Amy frowned. “You said you were going to give it to my mom!”

“Well I changed my mind. Also, what's the point? The Pope could make me a Saint and she still wouldn't like me.”

“You can't be made a Saint while you're still alive.”

“Well that's not fair, then you never get to enjoy it!”

Meanwhile Ada was looking at the conversation with great confusion.

“So do you want to give her the picture now?” Dino asked.

“No, I don't have it with me. Why would I carry a picture of the Pope around? It's in my suitcase somewhere.”

“Not under your dirty laundry I hope,” Amy said.

“What do you take me for?” Jake exclaimed.

“I know how you feel about my mom.”

“Yeah but why would I do that to the Pope? I have nothing against the man, honestly. Anyway, I'll mail it to her when I get back to the hotel, and I'll buy your mom a hat.”

**Coda**

“She even made me go to the opera! Sometimes I wish I was half Belgian, they don't have any culture.”

Amy sighed. “You've never heard of the Flemish Primitives then.”

“Well how sophisticated can that be?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Voi Che Sapete](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNRF-SEl27o)


	3. An Italian Feast

They all retired to the churchyard where Ada told a million stories about various dead Peraltas, some more interesting than others. She was happy to be the center of attention while the other villagers stood around and nodded, adding the occasional comment or exclamation.

They also stopped at the butcher's grave. “Eh sorry?” Jake said for the sins of the father's father's father. “So was he arrested for the murder?”

Dino consulted the hive mind. “No, everyone thought that Marcello deserved it.”

Then they went to Dino's grandmother's house for a drink while the villagers dispersed. She was cooking up a storm, chopping vegetables at the speed of light while stirring a gigantic kettle on the stove. Jake wondered how much Dino could eat, or if more family members were hiding in the attic. He looked over at Amy, who nodded. “Well, this has been fantastic, but I think we should be going. We don't want to be a bother.”

“No! You can not leave,” Dino said, shocked. “You have to stay for the feast.”

“Feast? What feast?” Jake asked. “Is it a holiday?”

“No, the feast in your honor,” Dino said, “that they are all preparing right now. I told you this was a big event, you coming all the way from America. And now you have raised a man from the dead, although he is still dead in America, and you have solved a murder that was not a murder. So you are staying, right? It will be a great feast,” he said, licking his lips.

Jake looked at Amy. “Well, we were going to try that one restaurant from TripAdvisor but this sounds much better, don't you think?” He took a deep breath to smell the old witch's magic brew bubbling away on the stovetop. “Smells delicious.”

Amy nodded. “Yes, let's stay. We wouldn't want to disappoint everyone.”

Dino looked at his watch. “It is going to take a while though. So what do you want to do in the meantime?”

“Eh, I dunno, what is there to do here?” Jake wondered.

“Ah, nothing. It is really boring. That is why everyone under sixty years has left.”

“Should we help with the cooking?” Amy suggested.

“No, you would only be in the way,” Dino said decidedly.

“Uh, then maybe we could go for a walk?”

Jake made a long face.

“Oh, I know!” Dino exclaimed. “Would you like to make a ride on a Vespa?”

Jake nodded approvingly. “That would be cool. No doubt.”

They followed Dino to the garage, where he showed them a classic lime green Vespa in mint condition. “It was of my grandfather,” he explained. “I am the only one who still use it.” 

Jake quickly got the hang of it, and he took a few spins around the church before he picked up Amy and they zoomed off. They admired the beautiful views over the hills and explored the ruins of an old water mill. However, as there were only bumpy dirt roads around Amy got tired of it pretty soon and begged Jake to return to the piazza, where Dino was waiting for them.

“Can you take a picture of us?” she asked, and handed him her phone. He took a few snapshots and she was delighted with the result.

“Wait, I will get my camera,” Dino said. “I have a good one. I will take some really nice pictures and mail them to you, ok?”

They readily agreed, since it sounded like a good plan and there was little else to do anyway. Dino returned and they posed with the Vespa, drove around the piazza and then did a few artsy shots in a deserted alleyway with dramatic lighting.

“That is a nice dress,” Dino complimented her red polka dot. “It look really good on you.”

“Hey!” Jake said. “That's my wife.”

Dino held up his hand. “I just appreciate beautiful things. Also I have a girlfriend, her name is Gretchen. I can not pronounce it but I love her.” The way he said it sounded like an engine sputtering, but then who knows what turns German girls on. “Also your shirt is very good,” he continued, “Not like an American.”

Jake was secretly glad Amy had made him go shopping in Milan and that he had put on his new outfit to impress his Italian relatives, although he had always imagined them as a huge family with lots of cousins and second cousins and big bowls of spaghetti, and not a lonely old lady in a delapidated farmhouse.

Meanwhile, things were happening on the piazza. Tables and chairs were being dragged out, and Jake and Amy gladly lent a hand among many amusing miscommunications. Dino continued to shoot pictures of everything and everyone even though his grandmother kept trying to make him do things. But the light was perfect just now. Table cloths appeared, then plates, glasses and bottles of wine, and a start was made with toasts and antipasti. An old man had broken into an aria amid loud cheers.

After he had finished Dino and his grandmother came over, and he coughed to get Jake's attention. “So my grandmother heard from Mrs. Mancini that you are in the police, and she would like to see a picture of you in uniform?” he said awkwardly.

Jake was a little creeped out by the leering old lady. “Well, I'm a Detective so I don't really wear-”

“Oh, I've got one,” Amy said, and started swiping on her phone. “Here,” she proudly showed a picture of the two of them to Dino's grandmother. She was delighted, even though Jake did not have a sword or a cape or a hat with a plume like his Italian counterparts.

“No capes!” Jake exclaimed after Dino explained the confusion. “Although I would like a cool sword. Why don't we have swords?” he asked Amy, who wisely chose to regard this as a rhetorical question and not an invitation to expand on her extensive knowledge of the origins and history of the NYPD dress uniform.

“But would you want a sword if you also had to wear a hat with a plume?” she retorted.

Jake frowned. It was a maddening dilemma. Meanwhile Dino's grandmother was pointing at Amy's uniform, and started showering her in Italian admonishments.

“Eh, she said you must-”

“Yep, got it,” Jake interrupted. “Don't wanna hear it. She's going to do whatever the hell she wants.”

**Coda**

GINA: Loved the Vespa pics, who cares about your boring relatives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “That would be [Cool](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TGwZ7MNtBFU). No doubt.”


	4. Under a Loggia

GINA: J! Guess what? Your pics went viral!  
Jake: What? What are you talking about? What pics?  
GINA: Your holiday pics, with the vespa and the party dohh  
Jake: But I didn't put them online?  
GINA: No I did. Don't you follow my gram?  
Jake: Wtf why would you do that!  
GINA: I just loved the aesthetics, so lavish. I made a selection and created a kind of photographic narrative. It's a new genre I call 'piction'  
Jake: I didn't give you permission to do that Gina! You invaded my privacy  
GINA: Oh don't worry I didn't use your real names, they're too boring. I called you 'Antonio' and 'Leonora'  
Jake: WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO ME???  
GINA: I think it added to the mystique. Would you have preferred Mario, or Luigi?  
Jake: No I'd rather you didn't do it at all! Also you don't even own the copyright, some guy called Dino took those pics.  
GINA: Oh he'll be glad of the exposure, this could be his big break  
Jake: He's not some struggling artist G, he doesnt need 'exposure'. He has a good job in IT.  
GINA: Well who wants to work in IT? Also Buzzfeed wants to talk to you. I told you this was big  
Jake: Tell em to fuck off  
GINA: I must say you did look really fly. Where'd you get those clothes?  
Jake: Milan. Amy made me buy them.  
GINA: Bless that woman, she's a saint. Embrace your heritage, pizza bagel

**Coda**

Buzzfeed Presents: The Amazing True Story Behind 'An Italian Feast'!

**Coda di Coda**

Dino: Hey Jake, I'm coming to New York! I'm shooting a job for Conde Nast. Gretchen says hi!

**Coda di Coda di Coda**

  


Die Eheleute Frau und Herr Rothenhaus-Kaufmann

und

die Eheleute Frau und Herr Donati

laden ein

zur Hochzeit ihrer Kinder

_Margarete Rothenhaus-Kaufmann_

und

_Bernardino Giuseppe Donati_

am 18 Mai um 14 Uhr  
im Schloß Rothenhaus

  
“What the...? Why do they have so many fucking languages?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a homage to [A Room With A View](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cyQ4vkTwc4E), with apologies to E.M. Forster.


	5. Mia Carina

Karen and Roger also went to Italy. Karen had become absolutely enamored with Jake and Amy's photos and stories, and Roger owed a favor from a guy at United Airlines – the less said about that the better – so they got two free tickets to Rome excluding airport tax. First they went to visit Ada with a whole stack of fresh pictures of her little namesake, which she put right next to His Holiness. Dino was not there to translate but they had engaged the services of the local English teacher, who was Mrs. Donati's late husband's niece's neighbor's granddaughter.

Karen was delighted with Ada and the village but Roger was not impressed. He said rude things in English behind Ada's back and scoffed at her cooking. On the drive back they got into a terrible row and Karen suddenly decided she'd had enough and left him for good. She packed her suitcase and got on the next train to make an 'Eat Pray Love' pilgrimage to L'Antica Pizzeria da Michele in Napoli, that beautiful shithole, and promptly fell in love with an Italian called Vittorio.

They met not at the pizzeria – she shared a table with three hilarious Brazilians instead - but the next morning at the Museo di Capodimonte in front of 'Judith Slaying Holofernes' by Artimisia Gentileschi, which she felt drawn to for some reason. They struck up a conversation and just never stopped talking. Now Vittorio was one of those rare Italians of his age who spoke fluent English because he was a retired professor who'd spent some time teaching at Trinity College Dublin, which is why his Italian accent was complemented with a sexy Irish lilt that Karen, understandably, found irresistible.

After leaving the Museo they took a stroll through the surrounding park and while admiring the view over the Bay of Naples decided to go to Capri on a whim. There, beneath the shade of an old walnut tree they spoke of art and music and pizza ortolana. The next day they took a boat trip to Sorrento and drank limoncello in a lemon grove, ate lemon sorbet and bought a Christmas ornament in the shape of a lemon for the lesbians across the street, which unfortunately broke on the way home in Karen's suitcase. Don't fly United.

They visited Pompeii, and Herculaneum too, and Vittorio called a friend of a friend who was an archeologist and they got a private tour of an Etruscan villa which was being excavated. When the wind was just right he rented a boat and they sailed around the islands of Ischia and Procida. They hiked the famous Path of the Gods on the beautiful Amalfi Coast and Karen fell hard. On her face, and for Vittorio. They visited the Royal Palace at Caserta, St Elmo's castle – where she told off some rude Israeli backpackers, who fear nothing except Jewish moms - and the fabulous Carthusian monastery next door, and tried to avoid the trash bags in Naples as best they could.

But although they shared many a romantic night eating seafood pasta on a moonlit piazza Vittorio did not make any advances, and after a magical week they parted as friends at Fiumicino Airport. Karen was confused. Either he was the perfect gentleman and she had completely misread the situation, or he was gay. Well, at least she didn't have to sit next to Roger on the flight home because he had left six days earlier in a hurry after totaling the rental car. So when Jake picked up his mom at JFK she did not speak a word about Vittorio, and back home she cropped him out of all her best holiday pictures amid sad tears and limoncello.

The truth of the matter was that Vittorio had also fallen head over heals for Carina, but since he was only recently widowed he feared his children's reaction. Also she lived in America, so he told himself it could never work. But after not even a month he impulsively booked a flight to New York and knocked on her beautiful front door to declare his love. And so it came to pass that when Jake went to pick up his old Transformers for little Ada when he thought his mother wasn't home he accidentally walked in on them. They were just drinking wine on the couch, but it was still awkward. In the end he just wanted his mom to be happy so he only threatened him once with the full might of the law & all his friends at Interpol and after that they became fast friends over a bottle of Tullamore Dew. Vittorio's children were understandably quite apprehensive but slowly warmed to his Carina, especially after she made a herculean effort to learn Italian.

He gave her a Claddagh ring and they went on honeymoon to Ireland, the beautiful land of saints and scholars he had told her so much about. He showed her all his favorite illuminated manuscripts and she was enchanted. After that the happy couple divided their time between Karen's house in New York and Vittorio's apartment in Rome. When not occupied with their offspring they spent their days doing nothing (a.k.a. ' _il dolce far niente_ '), sailing around the Mediterranean and taking scenic train journeys through Europe to look at old things and stuff.

After Ada's death Jake inherited the farmhouse, and Karen fixed it up as a holiday home and often went there to paint while Vittorio played for her on his Celtic harp. She also took cooking lessons from Dino's grandmother, with spectacular results. The village had livened up a little, the fame of 'An Italian Feast' making it a favorite off-the-beaten track destination for hipsters on rented Vespas. The villagers continued to feed everyone who showed up and were always happy to pose for artsy photos, and were consistently rated five stars on TripAdvisor.

Vittorio's children and grandchildren delighted in surprising _cugino_ Jake with random visits to New York but they always stayed in a hotel thank god. (They determinedly called him 'cousin' even though he was their step-uncle or something.) They did however insist on being taken out for 'authentic American food,' but were always pleased with whatever hole in the wall or greasy spoon he took them this time. Then in turn they took Jake and Amy out to some fancy restaurant so it was a pretty good trade. They never got tired of hearing the story of Jake's time undercover with the mafia; they found the whole thing hilarious, especially the meatballs in the spaghetti. Amy was gifted more Prada bags and Gucci scarves than she knew what to do with, and Ada was always the most stylish kid on the block. Nay, New York even, much to Gina's despair. Poor Iggy just couldn't keep up.

Vittorio was a wonderful grandfather, even over Skype. He was the main reason Ada grew up speaking a good deal of Italian, and that gave her the confidence to go on an exchange year to Bologna where she French kissed a Française called Françoise. Jake never learned to speak Italian. Or Spanish for that matter. Instead he spoke a kind of Spitalian, which was serviceable up to a degree. Ada however switched effortlessly between languages, impressing many of her peers in New York and none in Europe.

So anyway, that's why there was a whole gaggle of loud Italians at Ada Santiago-Peralta's bat mitzvah, quince, and graduation party. Jake got to experience all the delights of a large extended family with big bowls of spaghetti like he'd always imagined, and Ada grew up a proud Italian Jewish Cuban American.

**Coda**

Die Eheleute Frau und Herr Donati

und

die Eheleute Frau und Herr Santiago-Peralta

laden ein

zur Hochzeit ihrer Kinder

_Angela Hildegard Olivia Donati_

und

_Milan Raymond Santiago-Peralta_

am 24 Mai um 14 Uhr  
im Schloß Rothenhaus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [That's Amore](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aFSv-tq5GAY)


End file.
